He said: “Lady, most noble of all women living, I praise you now beyond all praise in the past. And I gladly excuse your
anger.
Small wonder if a woman's wrath be kindled when her
husband turns
to another wife. But now your mood's more sane, and
you
perceive, though late, where our welfare lies. And you,
my sons,
away with these tears! For I dare to hopeâthe gods
willingâ
you'll be rich and powerful yet in Corinth. Grow strong!
Leave all
the rest in your father's hands. May I live to see you
reach
the prime of youthful vigor, envy of my enemies!”
He paused, studying Medeia. “Why these fresh tears?”
he said.
“Why this turning away of your face?”
   “It's nothing,” she said. “My heart was brooding on the children.”
   “But why in such terrible sorrow?” “I bore them. And when you prayed just now that they
reach their prime,
a sad foreboding came over me, a fear of the future.” He looked at her, his face thoughtful and sorrowful at
once.
“Take heart, Medeia,” he said. They shall not lack my
protection.”
She nodded. “I will, husband, and will not mistrust your
words.
âBut of that which I came here to say I've said only a
part, my lord.
Let me say now the rest: Since it's Kreon's will that I be banishedâand I grant that's best, vexatious to
Kreon's house
and to youâI will go into exile. But as for our two
dear sons,
I beg you, let Kreon not banish them, nor banish them
yourself,
since you've won more power in this hall than you like
to admit. Let them live
in Corinth, reared in the palace, so that no one may
doubt the right
you've promised them.”
   “I doubt I have power sufficient to move him so far, Medeia,” he said, “though I may have such power
in theory.
And yet I'll try.”
   “Let your bride entreat him, for surely thenâ” “I will, yes.” He thought about it for a moment,
frowning.
“I may persuade her.”
   “You will, if the woman's like other women. And I'll help you, Jason. I'll send our children with gifts
for her,
a golden gown and wreath so beautiful no living mortal has seen their match.” She turned to the slave
Agapetika
and took those gifts from the old woman's hands. The
old woman's eyes
threw a wild appeal to Jason, but she could not speak,
her tongue
turned stone by Medeia's spell. Medeia said, “She'll be
blessed
a thousandfold, winning you, most splendid of heroes,
for her spouse
and dowered with treasures from Helios.” And then, to
her sons:
“Children, take these gifts in your hands and carry them
to her
as your father directs. They're gifts no woman could
refuse.”
   But Jason held back in fear, having recognized the cloth. He said, casting about for some stratagem by which he might be more sure of her, “No, wait, Medeia! Why cast away this finest of treasures?âfor surely that cloth is the
fleece from Aia.
The princess has robes and gold enough. Keep it for
yourself,
a sure protection from hardship and suffering in exile.
If my bride
esteems me at all, she'll prize my wish beyond any
mere treasure.”
   Medeia said, “My lord, I have not chosen lightly these gifts I bring.” Sadly, solemnly, she met his eyes. “How is a woman to prove to the man she's given her life that, following his wish, she renounces all earthly claim
to him?
This cloth was, to me, chief proof and symbol of our
steadfast love.
Giving it awayâthat which I prize beyond all other
wealthâ
I give you away, my husband, and all our past together, for our sons. To me, it's a gift no less than Khalkiope
gave
for hers. Do not shame me, or reduce me to
insignificance,
by refusing this queenly gesture. I'm left with no other
I can make.
You know me, Jason. Have mercy on my pride. I'd give
my life,
not merely gold, to save my sons from banishment.”
   Then Jason believed her, and, placing the golden
gown and wreath
in his two sons' hands, he said, “Wait here, and we'll
test the power
of your gifts at once,” and he rose to lead them to
Pyripta's room.
Medeia said, “Children, speak bravely when you meet
with your father's new bride,
my mistress now, and beg her to save you from
banishment.
And don't forget: with her own hands she must receive
our presents.
Hurry now, and the gods be with you! Return to me soon with the news I'm eager to hear.”
   Then the children left with Jason, the old male slave attending. The sea-kings watched
them leave,
no man daring a whisper. In time they returned again, and Jason said, “You've done well, Medeia. Your sons
are spared.
The royal bride has received your gifts with gracious
hands.
Henceforth I hope for peace between our family's
branches.”
He studied her, baffled despite all his years of
knowledge of her,
his mind clouded by the thought that the fleece was
still with him, his curse.
“Why so distraught?”
   “A pain, my lord.”
   “Such moans seem strange when I bring you joyful news.”
   She covered her eyes, groaning. He said, now deeply troubled, “Can there be in what
you've done
some harm still undetected?”
   “I was thinking of the past,” she said. “I loved you, Jason. I would have thought even a man
might grieve.
But now we'll go. All I came for is done.” With her slaves
and children
she moved like one in a nightmare toward the door.
With his eyes
he followed them. After they left, he turned slowly, his heart racing, back toward Pyripta's room. He knew he'd missed something, but for all his cunning, he
couldn't guess what,
or whether the things were already accomplished or
just now beginning.
His heart was filled with fear, suddenly, for Medeia's
life,
as her boundless rage turned inward. He could feel now
all around
him a rush, as if Time had grown sensible, and volcanic.
   Below,
far ahead of the old, tortuously moving slaves, Medeia hurried with the children, bending her head
against the rain,
rushing downward through lightning, her two sons
crying in alarm
and pain at the speed with which she dragged them
homeward. Medeia
wailed aloud, her tears mingling with the hurrying rain, her voice feeble in the ricochetting boom of thunder: “No! How can I? Farewell then all insane resolves! I'll take them away with me, far from this fat,
corrupting land.
What use can it beâhurting my sons to give Jason grief, myself reaping ten times over the woe I inflict? I won't! That too has a kind of victory in it: he wrecks my life, tears it to shreds, and with furious calm I allow him
his triumph,
trusting in the gods' justice hereafter, the fields where
the meek
are kings and queens, and the powerful on earth are
like whipped dogs.
There's
moral
victory!” But she threw back her hair with
a violent head shake
and clenched her teeth. “âSo any craven slave will tell
you,
smiling at his coward's wounds, whimpering to the gods.
Shall I make
my hand so limp, my waste so trivial? âBut no, no, no! Repent, mad child of Aietes! Though a thousand curses
rise
like stones turned judges in the wilderness, all justifying in one loud cry your scheme, yet this alone is true: If you strike for pride, for just and absolute revenge,
the stroke
is wasted; for who will call it pride or justice, from you? âHer father was mad in the selfsame way and to the
same degree,'
they'll say, and they'll wrinkle their broad Akhaian brows
and wipe
cool tears away. Dear gods! Even as an instrument of
death
they've made me nothing, meaningless! And yet though
Jason
robs me even of human free willâtakes from me even my soul's conviction of freedomâI still can give pain.
Even now,
crowned by the wreath, swathed in her golden robe, his
bride
is perishing. I see it in my heart. You've served me well,
good sons.
One more journey I must send you on, now that we're
home.
Run in! Go quickly! I'll follow you soon.” She opened the
gate
and clung to it, weeping. The boys went timidly in
toward light.
But for all her wailing, her mind was not for an instant
deflected
from what she was seeing. For her witch-heart saw it all,
from the beginning:
   Before she was aware that his sons were with him,
the princess turned
with an eager welcoming glance toward Jason. But then,
drawing
her veil before her eyes, she turned her white cheek
away,
loath to have them come near. The children paused,
frightened,
but Jason said quickly to the princess, “Do not be hostile
to friends.
Forget your anger and turn your face toward me again. Accept as loved ones all whom your husband holds dear;
and accept
their giftsâworthy of a goddessâlook! Then plead with
your father
that he soften toward these children and excuse themâ
for my sake, Pyripta.”
The princess, seeing that golden gown, could resist no
longer
but yielded to his will, and gladly. And scarcely had
Jason left
with his children and their old attendant, than the
princess put on the new dress
and circled her hair with the golden wreath. In her
shining mirror
she ranged her locks, smiling back at the lifeless image, then rose from her seat and around the room went
stepping, half-dancingâ
her blue-white feet treading delicatelyâPyripta exulting, casting her eyes down many a time at her pointed foot.
   But now suddenly the princess turned pale, and
reeling back
with limbs a-tremble, she sank down quickly to a
cushioned seatâ
an instant more and she'd have tottered to the ground.
An old black handmaid,
thinking it perhaps some frenzy sent by Pan, cried out in prayer. Then, lo, through the bride's bright lips she saw white foam-flakes issueâsaw her eyeballs roll out of sight, no blood in her face. Then the slave sent out a shriek far different
from the first.
At once, one slave went flying upstairs to Kreon's
chamber,
another to Jason to tell him the news. The whole vast
house
echoed with footsteps, hurrying to and fro. Before a swift walker with long, sure strides could have paced
a furlong
she opened her blue eyes wide from her speechless agony and groaned. From the golden chaplet wreathing
Pyripta's head
a stream of ravening fire came flying like water down a
cliff,
and below, the gown was eating the poor girl's fair white
flesh.
She fled crazily this way and that, aflame all over, shrieking and tossing her hair to be rid of the wreath,
but the gold
clung firmly fixed. As she tossed her locks, the fire
burned brighter,
and soon all the palace was heavy with the smell of her
burning hair
and flesh. She sank to the ground, her throat too swollen
for screams,
a dark, foul shape that even her father might scarcely
know.
Her features melted; from her head ran blood in a
stream, all melled
with fire. From her bones flesh dripped like the gum of
a pineâa sight
to silence even the eternally whispering slaves. Lord
Jason
stared, rooted to the ground where he stoodânor would
anyone else
go near that body. But wretched Kreon, with a wild bawl threw himself over the corpse, closing his arms around
it
and kissing it, howling his sorrow to the gods. “Now
life's stripped bare,”
he sobbed. “O, O that I too might die!âthese many
years
ripe for the tomb, and thou barely ripe for womanhood!” So old Kreon wept and wailed; and when he could
mourn
no more and thought he would raise again his ancient
limbs,
he found to his horror that she clung to him as ivy clings to laurel boughs. The slaves and the guards of the
palace stood helpless,
an army of useless friends. The fat king
wrestled with his daughter. When he pulled away with
the whole of his strength,
his agèd flesh tore free of his bones. Too spent at last to struggle further with the corpse or howl in pain, he
sobbed,
dryly, resigned to death. The slave Ipnolebes
stood over him, watching with empty eyes. The old king
whispered,
“Nothing works! All we've learned is that!” And he died. Ipnolebes said nothing. Then, all around the room, the slaves began to whisper again. A sound like fire.
   Then Jason covered his eyes with his hands and